


Paths Cross

by Starla-Nell (Princess_Nell)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II, Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age: Origins - Awakening
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Fluff, Grey Warden Joining, Light Angst, Mabari Puppies, Pre-Relationship, Road Trip, friends "helping", puppy fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-13
Updated: 2017-11-13
Packaged: 2019-02-01 20:29:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12712383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_Nell/pseuds/Starla-Nell
Summary: Written for the Prompt:Alistair/BethanyWould love fics about these two adorable people crossing paths! AUs welcome, fluff and sweetness strongly preferred. No non-con, please.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nlans](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nlans/gifts).



> This is the debut of my head-canon that each Act of DA:2 takes 2 years. Bartrand's Deep Roads Expedition happens in 9:33 Dragon, not 9:31 as in canon. The idea solves unrelated timeline problems I’ll discuss in the comments if requested.

9:33 Dragon

Bethany didn’t see Warden Alistair again for weeks after her Joining. Unsurprising, once she learned he was Warden-Commander of the Free Marches. She hadn’t exactly been in the mood to brag that she knew the man presiding over her Joining. Well, she knew _of_ him: she’d seen him come through Lothering, a big man with short, red hair. She was watching out the window for her siblings at the time. _Was that only three years ago?_ It seemed longer. He’d run around town with his dwarven friend, helping out and providing hope. The dwarf’d had an oddly narrow, braided beard and a respectable mabari. They’d had a grumpy Chasind with them. The lay Sister with good aim and the Qunari murderer joined as well.

Being in Ferelden at that moment made him one of two Ferelden Grey Wardens to survive the Blight. One man stuck the sword in the Archdemon, but this one was in line for Ferelden’s throne. Why would he give that up?

No one introduced him at her Joining, but Bethany hadn’t cared about names with her eyes sinking into her skull, her blood turning to ichor, a song buzzing at the back of her skull. In the days since her Joining, she’d learned his reputation. Everyone under his command loved him, loved the way he put the needs of his troops before personal concerns.

She hadn’t seen him in her first weeks at Warden’s Keep, but even he had to eat. So one day, Bethany looked up from inhaling her enormous meal as Warden-Commander Alistair sat next to her in the Free Marches mess hall. He had piled his plate with food, too.

“You’re… Warden Bethany, aren’t you?” He grinned. “The new one. No, don’t slow down on my account.”

“Right in one. And unless I’m mistaken, you’re the fabled Warden-Commander Alistair.” In spite of his words, Bethany slowed her eating to a pace her mother wouldn’t weep over.

He laughed easily. “Sorry I haven’t been able to say ‘hello’ since your Joining.” She liked his laugh. It was like the sun hitting her face when she stepped out of the Deep Roads. “Fabled, is it? Well, I suppose I am seldom seen,” he said. “How do you like the Grey Wardens?” He shoveled food into his mouth.

Bethany shrugged. “It’s nice not to be afraid of templars dragging me off.”

He coughed discretely into his hand. “You should know I’m trained as a templar.” He rubbed his hair, making it stand up even worse, but flattened it again, except that bit in front. “In my defense, it keeps the Chantry off our backs. Well, _your_ back. That, and a disaster a couple years ago. Our best healer was killed by a spirit of Justice we thought we could trust, but the whole thing was triggered by templars the Chantry forced on us.”

Bethany blinked, doe-eyed. “You don’t say?”

“You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you?” he said, smiling. It was a nice smile.

“If he was killed by a spirit, that’s probably the end of it,” she said evenly.

“Of course it is,” he said quickly, dismissively. “So, how did your sister find us? Stroud was a bit… cagey on that point.”

Bethany smiled. “Varric may or may not have asked a friend to steal maps of the Deep Roads. If that happened, I imagine Warden Stroud’s embarrassed.”

“Huh,” Alistair said. “You don’t like lying, do you? Of course you don’t. But you’ll do it to protect your friends,” he said. “A friend of mine did what he could for a mage named Anders, once upon a time. Well. We must be sure you make friends among the Wardens, get you on our side.” He winked at her, and she suddenly realized how young he was, to be in command of an entire army.

“You’re manipulating me? But telling me about it first?” Her eyes narrowed.

“I suppose I am, yes. Wouldn’t be sporting otherwise, would it? Now if you’ll excuse me, I have an absolute mountain of paperwork to catch up on if we’re to be ready for our next mission.” For all the talking he’d done, his plate was clean. He stood and stretched. Bethany admired the way his shirt pulled around his chest, then chided herself: _It’s the Warden-Commander._ “As much as it’s nice to have support from the Wardens, at times I miss when ‘going on a mission’ was throwing everything we owned into a cart and strapping weapons to our backs.” He waved goodbye with a smile.

###

Alistair found Bethany again in the mess hall a few days later.

“Well, if it isn’t my fellow Fereldan,” the Warden-Commander said.

Bethany smiled. It felt brittle, and she tried to relax her face. “I’m hardly the only Ferelden stationed here,” she said.

“No, but you’re certainly the prettiest.”

Bethany blinked.

“I—oh, Maker, can we forget I said that? You _really_ don’t need to respond to… I’m an idiot. I’m trying to make you comfortable, and I go and say something like that. Let me start over.”

“All right,” she said, unsure what else to say. Why was she so nervous? He already knew she was a mage. She was suddenly aware that the Warden-Commander was _very_ handsome.

The man was flustered, rushing his words. “Right! So, ah! What d’you miss most about Ferelden?”

Bethany giggled. It felt real, for the first time since the Deep Roads. “Well, I think what I miss most is the dogs.”

Alistair winced. “A little cliché, don’t you think?” he said, smiling through the wince.

Bethany ignored how cute that was and shrugged. “Maybe. What Ferelden wouldn’t want mabari to fight darkspawn?”

Alistair ducked his head. “What Ferelden, indeed?”

“Wait!” Bethany said, laughing again. “You don’t like dogs?”

Alistair shrugged miserably.

“You! You’re the quintessential Ferelden! You helped save the entire country from Civil War _and_ the Fifth Blight! How could you hate mabari?”

“It’s not so much that I hate mabari, as… they tend to bite me.”

Bethany laughed. “No! They’re supposed to be such good judges of character! How could mabari dislike you?”

Alistair looked up at her, and she notices his eyelashes and light-brown eyes. “You think I have good character, do you?” he rumbled. _Yikes!_ “Well, maybe you’ll tell me, then: what happened to destroy your trust?”

“Excuse me?” Bethany said, surprised by the shift in subject.

Alistair waved, frustrated. “You smile more than can be expected after what you’ve been through, abandoned in the Deep Roads to die with your friends and family. You’re friendly with everyone. No one has any complaints about you. Yet, here you are, sitting alone. I want to know why you find it hard to open up to us.”

“Why would I trust you enough to say?” she asked teasingly, praying he’d drop it.

“I dunno, my excellent character?” He grinned. “Besides, I’ve been told I have one of those faces.” He held a hand to frame his face.

Bethany put her silverware on the table, allowing the smile to slide off her face for the first time since her Joining. “Is this an order?” she asked.

“Maker, no! I just…” Alistair’s cheerful expression crumpled, exposing too many lines for someone so young, exposing loss of his own. “I don’t want you to bear the burden alone,” he hissed. “No one should have to.”

Bethany stood, stopping up the emotions trickling toward him, like a stream toward a pond. “If it’s not an order, forget it.” She smiled brilliantly and walked away.

“Messed that up royally,” he muttered to himself.

 


	2. Chapter 2

Alistair didn’t bring trust up again in the months that followed, but it was always there, under the surface. They chatted over enormous meals whenever neither was called away, her on surface patrols to check sealed Deep Roads entrances, him on more aggressive missions to balance out what he called ‘interminable meetings.’

###

“It’s good to talk with you,” Alistair said, pouring the brandy for Warden Aeducan in Alistair’s fancy Warden-Commander’s quarters. Their mutual friend had sent him a bottle from Antiva. “We get so busy.” They sit and savor the liquor, talking about nothing, before Warden Aeducan gets to why he’s here, risking discovery.

“Alistair, you need to tell her,” he said, “and don’t say you don’t know what I’m talking about.”

Alistair snapped his mouth shut on that exact assertion. “I don’t think I really _need_ to…” he said instead.

“Alistair, we don’t live long enough for this bullshit,” Aeducan said, arching the furry caterpillars he calls eyebrows.

Alistair sighed, sipped brandy for cover. It burned lightly on the way down.

“You’re Warden-Commander. Proverbial king of this literal castle. Surely you can arrange a romantic moment or two with your crush.”

“It’s not like with you and Morrigan. I’m her commanding officer. I can’t just… crawl off to her tent and call it good.”

“Aeducans don’t crawl,” he said, sniffing.

“You know what I mean,” Alistair said miserably.

“Just. Talk with her more. Let her decide. I can even suggest a venue.”

Alistair rolled his eyes. “You? Suggest a romantic meeting place?”

“Romantic? No. Effective? Well. Only if she’s interested, too, I suppose.” Warden Aeducan laughed as Alistair groaned and covered his face with his hands.

###

Warden Rodak was preceded into the room by his eyebrows. “Warden Bethany,” he said, reading off a scroll. “You’re wanted for today’s excursion with the Warden-Commander, Nathaniel, and I.”

Bethany knocked a pile of books off her narrow cot at the mention of Alistair, standing. “Where?” She studiously ignored the mess. Rodak smirked, but didn’t even glance at the sprawling books.

“Deep Roads,” he said instead. “We’re still looking for the Architect. Eliminating some possibilities, provided by Ferelden’s Hero.” His bushy mustache nearly hid the dark circles around his eyes.

Bethany groaned, but there’s nothing for it. _I’m a Grey Warden. Wardens go to the Deep Roads._ “Couldn’t the Hero of Ferelden produce leads that point somewhere more pleasant?” she complained, glancing at the books and trying to remember everything she brought with her on her last expedition.

Rodak laughed. “Where do have in mind?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” she said, finally picking up her books, “I hear Antiva is lovely this time of year.”

Rodak huffed. “I hear it’s full of tanneries and assassins, but I might have been given a narrow view.” He left abruptly. Bethany shrugged and packed her bag.

###

The trip into the depths of the mountains was annoying, but Bethany found that Alistair made it bearable. Something about his presence soothed her. More annoying was catching Rodak and Nathaniel murmuring to each other and stopping whenever she spotted them. _What are they up to?_

“All right, we’ve got a good strike team here,” Alistair said when they reached their destination, nodding to Nathaniel, Rodak, and Bethany. “So obviously the best plan is to split up.”

“What?” Bethany said as the others chuckled.

“He’s joking,” Nathaniel said. “It _is_ the best plan, because we shouldn’t meet much resistance here. We’re trying to eliminate possibilities, not storm any gates.”

“I assume Nathaniel and I go right, you and Bethany will go left?” Rodak said.

Nathaniel nodded. “It’s the logical division.” Bethany saw nothing logical about it, but she had only just Joined. _There’s more to investigating darkspawn than I know._

“I—you know me,” Alistair said, recovering quickly from a brief fluster. “My decisions are always logical.”

Bethany shook her head, amazed by how long they must’ve worked together to have established such a strong rapport. She did a bit of math. _Two years, probably._ They double-checked supplies, established a meeting place, and headed down their separate branches of the Deep Roads.

This part of the Deep Roads differed from the one Varric’s brother had dragged her group into. The ceilings were more intact. There were runes carved into each enormous doorway. She tried to read them, but they looked like fancy gibberish.

“You know the Deep Roads were once occupied by dwarves?” Alistair said, interrupting her internal speculation.

“Yes?” she said, bringing her attention back to him. Everyone knew that. Clearly he had some larger point to make.

“Well, I mean… dwarves used to, ah, fill them. Not entirely, of course, just… they would travel? A lot? Along the Roads?”

“Yes, I know,” Bethany said, trying to guess where this was going. “It’s… a shame what happened to them, I suppose.”

“But?” Alistair prompted.

Bethany shrugged. “The only dwarf I know isn’t too keen on Orzammar or the Deep Roads.”

“Right. I… know a dwarf named Oghren. Have you met Warden-Commander Oghren? No, sorry, you’re new, and he hasn’t been around. I suppose he’d agree with your friend. I mean, he didn’t mind the Deep Roads, but he didn’t socialize in Orzammar unless he was _really_ drunk. That worked out pretty well, because he was _really_ drunk most of the time, actually. Am I… babbling? You’re laughing at me.”

“No. Well, maybe a little.” Bethany _was_ laughing. “It’s just… Oghren, companion to the Hero of Ferelden! Oghren, Commander of the Grey in Ferelden! A drunkard!”

Alistair laughed, too. “I know, right? He actually cleaned up after the mess in Amaranthine. Has a kid, I think? But, no, during the Blight year he was a sodden mess. He would! He would brew his beer right in his pack!”

“He wouldn’t!” Bethany said, mock-scandalized.

“No! Really! I wondered why he smelled like a brewery until one day we set up camp and took this bronto bladder out of his pack and added some wild grain he’d picked up. He was a walking brewery!”

“A bronto bladder? That’s disgusting!”

“It wasn’t that bad, actually, he kept his brewing equipment extremely clean,” Alistair said, then mumbled, “It was the only thing he kept clean.”

Bethany borrowed her mother’s best glare.

“What?” he said.

“I’ve caught a whiff of _you_ after fighting darkspawn. You can’t tell me you’re much better.”

Alistair huffed and then shrugged. “Fair point, but I could smell him over me, which is saying something. But I thought we were talking about dwarven beer?” He glanced around and chose a tunnel forking off to the right.

“Varric’s very different from that,” Bethany said. “I think he prefers Corrif to brew the beer. Don’t know why, it’s all watered-down piss water.” The walls were much rougher here, the ceilings lower.

Alistair laughed. “I should invite Oghren for a visit, have him bring his brew…”

Bethany felt something sliding on the edge of her awareness, similar to before she collapsed in the Deep Roads. “What is”—?

“Maker’s Breath!” Alistair shouted, getting out his sword and shield. A shriek burst from cover, and Alistair got his shield ’round just in time. “There wasn’t supposed to be anything here!” Bethany felt a jab, back of left shoulder, but moved fast so the shriek couldn’t tear more flesh. Alistair slammed into it. The other shriek followed, and then a genlock stepped out to shoot at them. Bethany found a nook out of its line of sight and cast a protective barrier on Alistair.

Alistair charged into the archer, but lost a shriek on the way, which headed for her. She zapped bolts of energy, then began to cast a healing spell on herself. Before she could finish, the shriek waved its claws, slashing through her gut as Alistair bellowed. The pain was enormous, more than she’d felt before, and her head swam. As she fell _crunch_ to her knees then to her side with a crack! to her head, the shriek flew over her, revealing Alistair behind an ichor-stained shield. Bethany blacked out.


	3. Chapter 3

Bethany woke up. She was curled up against Alistair’s chest, blood and ichor everywhere, Alistair shouting for Rodak and Nathaniel. After that, she only kept flashes of memory: bandages wrapped around her. Nathaniel asking if she could cast. Trying and blacking out. Being carried by Alistair again. Being laid down and told to sleep.

###

Bethany’s world had stopped moving so much.

She opened her eyes and stared at a ceiling, not one she’d seen before, but consistent with Warden’s Keep. Her hair felt disgusting, but she could only move slowly. There was a whimpering sound nearby.

“Oh, good!” Alistair said, cheer more forced than usual. “You’re awake.”

Bethany sat up straight, horrified. “Warden-Commander!” A pain shot from her head to her gut and back, and she slumped.

Alistair laughed. “Lay down,” he said, “or your nurse will kill me for getting you riled up.”

“You bet your britches I will,” Warden Rodak said, coming in with a change of bandages.

“You’re? A nurse?”

“You didn’t think I was just a pretty face, did you?” he replied, winking and tugging on his bushy beard.

She looked at him closer. “Do I know you?”

“I’m Rodak,” he said, looking worried.

“I know that. Were you ever in Ferelden before the Blight?”

He looked surprised at that, but laughed anyway. “I was in Orzammar before the Blight,” he said, stroking his full beard and propping her up with pillows. Bethany sniffed. Not a hint of alcohol. He changed the bandage around her head swiftly, like a field medic. “It’s still pretty bad. Can you cast yet?”

Bethany nodded. “I’ll try.” She cast Heal and tried to ignore the itchy feeling of her wounds healing too fast. It cleared some of the fuzziness in her mind, and she realized she had a concussion.

“There we go,” Rodak said, watching the spell’s progress. “Alistair, you should sleep. She’s all right, like I promised.”

Warden-Commander Alistair Therin _flinched._ “I slept”—

“Don’t give me that,” he said. “I heard you pacing all night.”

“Look, who’s in command, here?” Alistair asked. Rodak opened his mouth.

“What is that whimpering sound?” Bethany blurted, not wanting to see her commanding officer get trounced by a subordinate. Warden Rodak snorted and left the room, shooting a significant glance at Alistair.

“I, uh, got mabari puppies. I knew a mabari during the Blight, and once we get them trained and raised they’ll be a major advantage for the Grey Wardens here.”

“Alistair,” Bethany said.

“Yeeeees?”

“You hate dogs.” There was a crate in the corner, the source of the whimpering.

“I _told_ you, I don’t hate dogs, they hate me. It’s a big difference! Besides, these aren’t dogs, they’re puppies. Their bites are very _small_. Nibbles.”

Alistair scooped a puppy up to deposit into her lap. “I thought I’d bring them to the infirmary. For morale.” The puppy clambered up her chest to lick her face. “Ooooo, she likes you.”

Nathaniel arrived with a bowl of dog food. The puppy barreled off the bed, landing in a heap on the floor. “Oh no!” said Bethany, but the puppy picked itself up and ran for the bowl. Five more puppies swarm out of the crate, tripping as much as they make progress.

Nathaniel set the bowl in the middle of the room and stood back to watch. Alistair gave them space, too. Noses and shoulders pushed and shoved, and soon the six puppies were walking around the bowl to avoid getting pushed out by each other and trying to push out the one in front of them. They looked like the spokes on a wagon wheel, all walking at the same pace. Nathaniel left, chuckling.

When they were done, they piled up, wiggling and climbing each other in a massive tangle of puppies. Alistair laid on the floor, saying “Puppies!” and covering his face with his hands. Five puppies swarmed him, trying to lick his face. The sixth one was eating his jerkin. Bethany giggled at them.

Alistair staged a great escape from the puppy onslaught by sitting up, throwing his jerkin as a distraction, and climbing to the safety of the bed. Bethany tucked her legs up to make room. One puppy focused on attacking the jerkin fasteners, seeming to expect the toggle to come off so the puppy could run off with it. Another picked it up, dragging the jerkin under itself and tripping. A third puppy grabbed the other end and pulled, stopping all progress, and the others swarmed the middle part. Each grabbed a mouthful and pulled. The sound of ripping stitches only encouraged them.

“Hey, that’s my jerkin! Hey!” Alistair said. He dangled his toes off the bed, and two of the puppies came over to bite his socks, and then they barked at them after one taste. They backed up, tail nubs shaking. When they got brave enough to dart forward for a mouthful of sock, they would immediately back up as if startled and resume their barking. Alistair pulled his feet back up on the bed, turning to Bethany to say, “Sorry about this.”

“It’s all right,” she said, smiling.

One puppy, still affronted by the socks, walked up the side of the bed with its front paws. When its back feet got too far forward, the puppy tipped straight back, waving its paws all the way down. It wriggled back to its feet.

“Ruff!” said Alistair, and the other puppy tilted its head to the side. “Ruff!” It tilted its head the other way, and two more puppies looked up at him, tilting their heads, too. One of these puppies sat down, and another puppy attacked its wagging tail nub.

Alistair stopped barking at them, so they had a contest to see who could lick another puppy’s face most thoroughly. Alistair looked up from them, eyes bright, smiling wide.

 _How could I have been intimidated?_ “It’s my sister,” Bethany blurted.

“No, I’m pretty sure it’s a mabari,” he said, grinning and pointing.

“Yes. No. My sister is the reason I have trouble trusting, not mabari.”

“Ah, yes, that makes sense.” Alistair looked back at the puppies but glanced at her in a tentative invitation.

“She… sent me here, without asking me. I’m not sure what I would have decided, given the choice. Sister knows best. But you… you asked me. At my Joining. I’d already accepted it. My sister had decided this was better than death, but you at least tried.”

“I… will always ask, milady.”

Bethany blushed.

“Now, that sounded all… not how I meant it. Not that I wouldn’t say that, but I like to think I’d pick a better time than… stop talking, Alistair.”

Bethany giggled and looked at the puppies, leaning toward him. She glanced back up at him to find him closer, watching her.

“May I”—

Warden Velanna came in saying, “A scouting group has drawn the attention of a large contingent of darkspawn, ser.” Nathaniel and Rodak followed Velanna in, grabbing at her arms. “It’s urgent,” she snapped at them. They looked at Bethany and panicked, ducking back out of the room. Bethany giggled.

“Of course,” Alistair said, standing and completely ignoring the other two. “Please get Wardens Rodak and Nathaniel as well as the quartermaster and the shift manager in the Mission Room within a half-hour.” During this brief speech, Bethany stared at her hands until she heard yips. All six puppies were attacking Alistair’s socks, but both Alistair and Warden Velanna were ignoring them studiously. When Velanna left, Alistair turned, mouth opening and closing.

Bethany said, “Don’t you have somewhere to be? Those darkspawn won’t kill themselves, you know.”

Alistair grinned, stooping to snag a puppy, which nipped his hand as he dumped it back in its crate. “Are you sure about that? Did you hear about the darkspawn war after the Blight? They weren’t killing themselves, I suppose, but Aeducan’s report said they were at least killing each other.”

“That… doesn’t sound safe,” she said, climbing down from her bed carefully.

“Oh, no, he had to put an end to it. Civilians were turned against each other. Others got caught in the conflict,” Alistair scooped up a pair of puppies trying to bite each others’ ears and dumped them into the crate, where they tried to bite all of the ears. “The darkspawn used Vigil’s Keep and the entire city of Amaranthine as pawns. Quite a mess.”

“Do you think that’s happening here?” Bethany carefully bent over. A puppy romped over to her, then wiggled furiously when she picked it up, staying well clear of its mouth.

“Not at all. This is probably mindless darkspawn separated from the horde.” Alistair snagged another puppy and added it to the crate. “We need to stop them before they make it to the surface and terrorize the locals. Also a mess, but much more straightforward.”

“Straightforward?”

“Well, none of them will try to parley, so we can just kill them.” Alistair grinned, scooping up another puppy and depositing it in the crate.

“That is convenient, I suppose.” Bethany smiled back. “Alistair?”

“Yeeeees?”

Bethany put her puppy in the box. “Come back _safe_.” She smiled up at him.

“I’ll do my best, milady.” He grinned, backing into the door on his way out.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to my husband for beta-ing, plus (will share after author reveal) even though she was busy with NaNoWriMo! 
> 
> I have no idea if there even is a Warden-Commander of the Free Marches, but Warden Alistair seemed to be in charge when he ran into Hawke during the Qunari Invasion at the end of Act 2 in DA:2. He’d be a Pretty Big Deal after helping stop the Fifth Blight so quickly, so I gave him command in the Free Marches.


End file.
